


Divinity Hidden From the Stars

by KikiWhatAboutThatBrendon



Series: SMP Character AUs [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Angst, Blood, Fluff, Phoenix TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:34:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KikiWhatAboutThatBrendon/pseuds/KikiWhatAboutThatBrendon
Summary: Hi! This is my gods AU! Take it! I'll add more gods as time goes on. :)Creation (Formerly Death) - PhilThe Universe - Kristen (Phil's wife.)Blood - TechnoMadness and Music - WilburRage - SchlattChaos - TommyLife - TubboDeath - DreamPossibility - CrumbJustice - CaptainsparklezLuck and Chance - Syndicate
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: SMP Character AUs [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2155068
Comments: 29
Kudos: 165





	1. Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> I do hope you all will enjoy! I'd like to make it clear it is not just me who is writing this, I'm writing it with my sister, ThreeSorrows, and I owe so much credit to her for this AU. The chapters written by her will be credited as such in the notes before the chapters. Also, this is a work of fiction, any PLATONIC AND FAMILIAL relationships in this work do not match up to reality. I will slowly be adding more and more gods as time goes on, please be patient with updates. Have fun!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's the God of Chaos and was born a phoenix by the stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's good, I made this cause I wanted to give my friends brain rot, Breadbin is back on his bullshit, enjoy the first installment of this one-shot series.

Fire and ash and passion and violence. That is what he is born of, that is what he will die for, until the sun burns out and the River Styx runs dry.

He was crowned God of Chaos the moment he breathed hellfire into his lungs and exhaled dangers most sinful desires.

The people didn't know what to call him, so they named their god.

Named him after Falak, and Apep, and Loki, and Kapua, and Theseus.

He’s an anomaly, a legend, stardust that was bled into ink and written off as a roll of the tide. But those who were with him in his reign know, they know where he’d been, they know where he went. They know he took the form of an unforgiving, brash teenager who doesn't cease when told to stop, doesn't back down to any authority, pushes his luck with a grin on his face, and walks through hell with his head held high.

He walks alongside the Angel of Death, who adorns the title of God of Creation.

He picks harmless fights and bloody wars with the Blood God.

He calls the God of Madness and Music his brother.

He confides in and calls the God of Life his best friend.

The universe dug him from their creations sorrows and cried their sweetest joys for him. They told him who he was and why he was here. Told him no matter his darkest despairs, he’d always come back from the ashes of what once was. They then kissed his temple softly, set him into the world, and said to have _fun._


	2. Let The River Run Dry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The God of Creation flows through the river of time, leaving behind all that is sacred.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MY GOOD FRIEND AND WONDERFUL SIBLING THREESORROWS MADE THIS FOR ME AND I AM EVER GRATEFUL FOR HER ASTOUNDING WORK, SHE GAVE ME PERMISSION TO POST THERE HERE SO Y E E T ENJOY!!!

Names are collected by gods like dust to a tomb. Mortals hand them out freely, spinning them over and over with dynasties and civilizations, gifting and regifting and forgetting in an endless cycle. There are names given to them by humans and other gods and names they pick for themselves, but their one name, their true name, the core of their being, if woven by the stars.

When stars craft a god, piecing them together from light and void and thoughts-like Chance, like Life, like Music, like Chaos-they start from their core and build outwards. When humans craft a god, cobbled from shards of myths and great deeds and stories warped over distance and twisted by memory-like Blood, like Hope, like Freedom, like Justice-they make the form, the template, the stars, if they so choose, gift the name that pulls them into existence. Phil is neither.

The stars did not make him. The humans did not will him into reality. He made himself.

At the start of all things, Phil bore himself from the death of a star. His name was not given, it merely was. Existence was made, uncountable barren worlds of rock and water, and so the universe demanded Death appear as well, that the end of all things took form, and Phil complied.

He has been given many names over his existence. Thanatos, Anubis, Scáthach, Hel, Mors. He has been named angel for his wings and demon for how they wrap around souls and pull them away to tears and screams. The stars never name him for all they speak with him easier than any other god, they do not have the power.

Gods may grow and change, but they rely on the humans that populate the world. Must expand their domains through stories and deeds they bargain with Knowledge and Chance to settle in the minds of mortals. Even now, Justice who was reborn from Balances reaches to grasp Curses and Music wraps themselves in a cloak of Madness.

Phil named himself and that clings.

Somewhere between the wars where he finds Techno young and uncertain, a deliverer to Phil’s domain and therefore his to care for, and spirits him away amongst his wings, Phil steps away from Death. He doesn’t abandon it, no. But the newly made Blood god cannot be thrown around the many worlds without rest. No, they will need a place for them, a place of safety, of rest. They will need a home.

Death named himself, yes, but that does not make reinventing himself easy. Death is destruction, but it is part of a cycle and Phil folds himself around that cycle until it is a part of him and he of it. As how after the woodcutters leave forests as fields where wild blueberry patches will spring up, Phil too learns to create.

He folds himself into mortal skin to match his new child and carries them both to an empty world. Death cuts down trees with an axe instead of withering them by a touch, he pulls stones and precious metals from the earth with a pick. Together, they travel through Nether and End and experience the world as mortals; how it was meant to be.

Death builds. Slowly, at first, haltingly. His walls are thin and fall in storms, his foundations crumble, his glass is lumpy and opaque. But he builds and talks and writes and plans and draws until his vision becomes reality. He creates until he becomes Creation.

He makes towers and castles and mines and farms and great globes in the sky to fly into and between. He writes down stories he’s seen and ones he’s heard. Draws the animals he could not touch before, and the brilliance of the ever-watching stars.

When Blood is settled and rested, they leave that world behind. Death-and-Creation let's Blood guide them and they find a world built for conquerors to war over and together they build an empire.

Music comes to them in that time. Drawn by the kin of Creation, and Death-and-Creation welcomes them. The three retreat to the old world and they learn of each other and Blood battles monsters while Death-and-Creation and Music weave songs into the air and ground and build new homes.

They leave again, and this time they do not settle. They race through worlds, challenge each other to the games of mortals and the competitions of the gods. They split apart and come back together in an endless dance, and even when they are far, they always know where home is.  
The Universe gifts them Chaos who exists in the hearts of mortals and the playfulness of fire and the infinite wars and thrum of music. Blood and Music dote on Chaos and so too does Death-and-Creation. Chaos follows Blood into battle and Music goes to Death-and-Creation and they compress the music of mortals into fragile, colorful disks and gift them to Chaos.

They do not go home for Chaos, though they visit, because it is not in his nature to be confined. They play games across worlds and Chaos brings Life with him. 

Death-and-Creation does not expect the humans to notice the change. In some ways they do not, in other ways they do. Nothing is said, but mortals are sensitive to these things, they know Creation has taken form, they merely do not know Death is the form it takes.

He gains temples and prayers and offerings and slowly but surely the humans pull him into two directions. They try to split him in half.  
Blood races through battlefields, answering their pleas and gathering souls but it is not enough. Music reaches forever artist and rewards their offerings, but it is not enough. Chaos wreaks havoc in temples and festivals, and it is not enough.

Death flies one way and Creation treads another and Death-and-Creation is steadily torn apart.  
So, Chaos goes to Life who is Death’s counterpart, who is nearly as old though does not look it, does not act like it, who is the greatest creator of all save the stars, and begs for help. And Life goes to Justice-who-is-reborn-from-Balance and Justice comes to Death-and-Creation.

Death-and-Creation does not survive, but Death survives, and Creation survives, and they still take the same form. He cannot be both, he learns, not in equal measure, he must become a scale like Justice. Must tip more towards one side than the other, and he may tilt himself occasionally, but it must always balance out in the end.

He is Death, and sometimes he is Creation. He has collected innumerable names over his existence, and Death will always be his, but Creation is as well, and neither fit quite perfectly anymore. Death-and-creation does not exist, now, he is called Phil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly so touched that she made this for me, I hope you all love it as much as I do.


	3. Tell the Stars That You Won

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The God of Madness and Music meets with the God of Rage after a war.

Lightening crackles through the sky, lighting up the clearing in a crude flash. Rain pours from the heavens as two gods stand across from one another. Tension lies thick between them. The God of Madness and Music and the God of Rage stare at one another. Blood is on both of their hands, and ichor drips from their bodies. The horned God of Rage smiles at madness, lava and stars drip down his chin. 

"Nice to know I wasn't the only one who lost his shit today." Rage says, spitting ichor at Music.

Music gazes at the substance, ignoring the molten obsidian gushing from his nose "Of course you'd be one to say that, Rage."

The god laughs and looks around the clearing they stand in, catching sight of a fire in the distance. "Like you don't find war fun." He sneers, smirk akin to that of a snakes.

Music feels his throat close up, and his eyes water at the whispers that breeze past his ears. "Shut up." He mutters weakly.

Rage scoffs, an incredulous look widening his eyes. "Shut up?" He barks, a smile stretching over his lips. "Yeah fucking right, admit it bitch, you love war just as much as Blood."

Music clenches his fists, momentarily biting his tongue to keep from using his power against another god, an act forbidden by the stars. 

"Rage, don't make me do it." He says, meeting the seething god's eyes.

Rage puffs his chest up, taking the soft warning as a challenge. "I wanna see you do it."

Music opens eyes he had squeezed shut, finding the smug grin of Rage. He takes a breath then starts to sing lowly, voice carrying clearly across the clearing. His voice meets Rage's ears, and his shoulders slowly start to fall. Music starts to add words in a forgotten language only the universe knows, a language the voices in his head whisper to lull him to sleep.

Rage falls to his knees as unseen instruments join the god of Madness and Music's siren song. The music continues as the singing god falls silent, half lidded eyes falling on Rage. Pathetic, one of the worlds most powerful gods on his knees.

He closes the space between them and kneels to be eyes level with them as the symphony from the stars crescendos.

"Rage," He mutters to the fear stricken god, "When will you learn?"

Music flicks his hand, and a thin batton appears between his fingers. He turns away from Rage, and raises his arms to conduct his symphony.

The forest surrounding them bursts into flames, and the sight puts a smile on Madness's face. He dips his arms, swaying with the beat that trembles the earth. The ground around Madness and Rage crumbles, giving way to fissures that reach the void below.

Madness casts a look over his shoulder, beaming at Rage with a look far gone from unhinged. His eye catches the form of a being made of stardust and undying love behind rage, disappoint in their shining white eyes, tears sliding down the constellation of freckles over their face.

He turns back to rage and sets a gentle hand to his cheek, tears streaking down his own face.

"Watch me burn among the stars," He gasps, "and laugh as I scream."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I'll make diffirent AU's but this is fucking FUN bro.


	4. Whisper to the Stars For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The God of Creation, Madness and Music, and Blood choose their names.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made another b i t c h e s.

The God of Creation looks over his world, a drunken smile on his face. His wings are splayed over the cliffside he’s resting on, a clear view of an ever expanding kingdom belonging to a valiant king he crowned. He feels pure joy in simply being alive. His world knows a peace only the universe could, for that he is grateful and thanks the stars every night for their kindness.

He looks over his shoulder at the sound of soft singing, met with the sight of the God of Madness and Music sauntering over to him, two bottles clutched in either hand.

“Hey Creation.” He says softly, shooting him a beaming smile.

Creation scoffs, turning back to his view. “Hey Madness.”

Music sinks down next to him, an incredulous and playful look on his face.

“Has my siren song fallen on deaf ears, Creation?” Music asks, quirking an eyebrow. “Do you truly think so little of me?”

Creation rolls his eyes, responding as he takes one of the bottles offered to him. “You're so dramatic, Madness.”

Music laughs and uncorks the bottle he holds, looking out at the kingdom as well.

“It’s all a part of the bravado for the mortals-” He takes a swig from the bottle- “I'd imagine a god of Madness and Music would be eccentric.”

“You're not wrong in the slightest!” A voice shouts from behind them.

Creation and Music turn, Blood is walking towards them with a look of barely contained contempt on his face. 

“How nice of you to join us Blood!” Music says, delighted.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbles as he sits. “Gimme that-” He snatches the bottle Music holds and starts downing it, the burn down his throat makes him smile.

“Bad day with the voices?” Creation asks warily as the bottle quickly starts to empty, setting down his own bottle.

Blood pulls the bottle from his lips with a grating gasp, lungs aching. Music claps for him, ignoring Creation’s glare as he looks on, impressed.

“Them and the mortals,” He starts hoarsely, “the people have picked a name for me, just as they’ve done for Cha- Theseus.”

Creation and Music share a surprised look, then glance back to Blood.

“What have they chosen?” Creation asks, feathers ruffling with his curiosity.

“Technoblade.” He says, casting a mourning look to his empty bottle. ”It’s strange but I think I like it, Techno would be good when it’s just us.” 

Creation nods while Music smiles brightly.

“I like it.” Music says genuinely, setting a gentle hand on Techno’s shoulder.

“It suits you.” Creation responds, a small grin on his face.

Techno bites back a smile then stares down Music. “I heard a rumor you’re taking a name as well, Madness.”

Music retracts his hand then takes his bottom lip between his teeth, glancing away from Creation and Techno’s expecting expressions.

“I quite liked William,” He says quietly, “But I’d want you two to call me Wilbur.”

Creation smiles then gives him a look of approval. “I could get used to calling you Wilbur.”

Techno grins and nods. “It’ll be nice to not have the daily debate of whether to call you Madness or Music.”

Wilbur shoves him, and Techno shoves him right back, uncaring of the cliff edge they are precariously close to.

“What about you, Creation?” Wilbur asks before Techno can send him tumbling over the cliff.

He sighs, pulling his wings close. “I don't know, the stars said I could name myself, but I haven't liked anything I've come up with.”

Wilbur and Techno share a look, then glance back to Creation.

“We've actually been thinking of names you'd take.” Techno says calmly.

Wilbur nods quickly, smiling bright. “Yeah, we were thinking Philza, Phil to us.”

Creation’s expression twists with surprise, having not known that he was having a name thought up for him.

“Philza…” He says softly, liking the feel of saying it on his tongue. A small smirk worms its way onto his lips.

“Philza, William, and Technoblade.” He says, looking up to the pair. “Phil, Wilbur, and Techno, I love it..”

Wilbur claps excited, Techno can't help but feel the slightest bit giddy that the God of Creation liked his and Wilbur’s suggestion.

“What do you think Theseus and Life will think?” Wilbur asks after settling down the slightest bit.

“The kid will probably be ecstatic to know he’s not the only one to have chosen a name, since Life is so indecisive.” Techno says with a roll of his eyes.

Phil’s laugh carries with the wind as the night sky starts to show with stars. 

The universe smiles down at their creation, the softest of smiles on their lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a discord! For all my fanfics! Go on and join it if you want to interact with my friends and be able to be updated on all my content! https://discord.gg/aQvZCk2Y


	5. May You Keep The Souls of The Innocent and Burn The Monsters Alive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Fallen Kingdom births the God of Death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look at me churning out content, I'm so cool.

The universe cradles stardust to their chest, tears of longing dripping down their cheeks.

"Please give Life someone to give to," They whisper. The glimmering shape of a body flickers into existence, opaque and full of stardust.

"Give Blood and Rage someone to play with." They mutter, voice hoarse. Glittering freckles appear over the face of the god in the universe's arms, and his skin starts to gain pigment.

"Give Chaos someone to laugh with." They say softly as magnificent robes the colors of quartz, the void, and Life's brightest greens appear over him, soft to the touch.

"Give Creation another kid to love." They mumble. They set a hand over his chest and kiss his head, feeling for a heart beat, waiting for a breath.

The void is deafeningly quiet until a stuttering breath breaks the silence. He opens his eyes, and the universe tears up again. Death looks up at his maker, stark white eyes finding a smile full of love and joy.

"Death…" They whisper, pressing their forehead to his, "my beautiful son."

They pull back, setting cold hands on either side of his face. "You are my most dangerous creation." They tell him, gaze burning. "You are the voice of reason, of fate and the inevitable, you will take every gift that Life gives you, and cherish them forever."

He nods, setting a hand over the one pressed to his cheek. They take a gentle breath, and push against the worry nagging at their very being. "I will love you no matter what you chose to do to my universe, Death." They say as a smile curls their lips. "The gods will love you, Death, you will be inevitability, an admirer of what Creation and Life give you, a friend to Chaos, keeper of every soul Blood and Rage give you."

He nods along to every word, excitement building in his expression. The universe sighs and kisses his forehead, lingering for just a moment. The universe feels a flutter of wings behind them, and looks over to see Creation waiting with a patient smile. 

The universe helps Death up to his knees, he takes their hand, finding Creation behind his creator.

The universe sees nervousness in his expression and laughs softly. "Don't be nervous, that's Creation, he knows you better than anyone in the universe."

Death eyes him warily, but feels a pull towards him. Creation takes a step closer as the universe brings Death to his feet, standing on shaky legs.

“You had to make another taller than me?” Creation asks the universe playfully.

The universe rolls their eyes but keeps their attention trained on Death. “You made yourself that way, it’s no fault of mine,” They say, casting Creation a smirk, “and besides, Life will always be shorter than you.”

He laughs and shakes his head, then finds Death’s hesitant gaze and softens his expression. Death hides his face in his hands, breathing quickly. Before the universe or Creation can say anything he feels something solid suddenly press against his face, cool against his hands. He pulls his hands from the cold, tracing the edge of what's appeared over his face. Death can see out of it perfectly, unhindered. He sees Creation holding a hand to his face, shocked, while the universe looks on pridefully.

Creation quickly waves his hands in a circular motion, summoning a reflective portal between his fingers. “Here-” He says while walking up to Death- “this is what you did.”

Death looks into it, and smiles. A snow white mask rests over his face, a black smiley face burned into it. He laughs softly, fond of the silly smile. He looks up to Creation, unafraid, and waves at him. The other god chuckles and waves back.

“I have a feeling he’ll be fine with you.” The universe says softly, smiling at her partner amongst the stars and her newest son.

Creation nods dutifully then turns and drags a careful hand through the fabric of reality, opening a way home, back into the realm of the mortals and gods. He beacons Death with a hand. “You ready for the world to meet you, kid?”

Death nods enthusiastically and quickly steps through. Creation casts the universe a longing look before pressing a soft kiss to her head and waving goodbye as he follows Death. The universe waves back, smiling wide, and disappears as the portal closes.

Light briefly blinds the new god, before blues and greens start to take form before his eyes. A harsh wind buffets through Death’s hair as it chases through the robes draped around him, he giggles, feeling as if he’s being tickled. Flowers start to wind through Death’s hair, appearing from nothing, irises, honeysuckle, gerbera daisies, and lily of the valley tangling in dirty blonde hair.

Creation watches fondly before speaking up. “I’m sure that means Life knows you're here, Theseus should know soon enough, those two dont leave each other's sides.”

Death feels around his head, setting gentle fingers on the delicate flowers in his hair. “Life is sending you a message,” Creation says helpfully, “He’s already fond of you, and is overjoyed you're here, he says his happiness grows with your arrival.”

Death chuckles, smiling wide. He rather likes the smell of the flowers.

Creation hums, looking over the sprawling plain they're standing in. “I suppose I should introduce myself.” Creation says, drawing Death’s attention away from the flowers in his hair. “I’m Creation, god of all that is, and former God of Death.” He says, lips curling into a smirk. “But the mortals of this world call me Philza, the other gods call me Phil.”

Death stares for a long moment, so long that Phil starts laughing. “I’m also the universe's soul mate,” he tacks on between stifled giggles, “Isn't she beautiful?”

Death nods, looking up at the sky for a moment, knowing that past the bright blue and clouds the stars and the universe is looking down on them.

“As this always goes with the other gods,” Phil starts, “I have to tell you why you were created.”

Death draws his gaze away from the clouds to instead meet Phil’s gaze. Phil closes the distance between them and sets a gentle hand on his shoulder.  “Let me show you.” He mutters.

Suddenly the world is a colorful blur before Death’s eyes, swirling with every color perceivable, a thousand sights flashing by in seconds. The world stops on the bleakest scene, on the edge of a familiar cliffside. The earth around them is dead. Death peers over the edge, and finds a decimated kingdom. A castle lies in rubble at the center of what once was. The land smolders as ash blows in the wind.

Phil stares at the carnage, a far off look in his eyes. “This is the power that you will possess.” He says hollowly. “Kristen… the universe, has decided I can no longer hold the burden of death by myself.” 

Death continues to look, taking in everything the tragically beautiful sight has to offer.

Phil presses on, clearing his throat, “I did this, it was an accident, I only meant for them to lose a little, and I did this.” His wings spread, catching a slight breeze. “Kristen split my power between me, you, and herself.” Phil tears his gaze away from the fallen kingdom. “This will never happen again, so long as us three shall walk among the stars.”

Death looks back at the ruins, and smiles softly. “I think it’s beautiful.”

Phil snaps towards him then looks out again, and his expression slowly softens. “Yeah, you're right kid.” He’s quiet for a moment, then gives Death a kind look. “Do you want to have a name?”

Death hums softly, putting a finger to his chin underneath his mask. Death shoots Phil a grin after a long moment, sure he can see. “I like the sound of Dream.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you get the Captain Sparklez reference? :)


	6. Nothing Could Be Possible Without Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unlikely bond between Nothing and Justice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORROWS MADE ANOTHER EVERYONE GO APPRECIATE SORROWS IN THE COMMENTS SHE GAVE YOU GUYS WHOLESOME JORDAN DAD CONTENT GO TELL HER SHE'S AMAZING

She thinks the universe made-it must have made her, the universe makes everything- but she doesn't know. It's hard to tell. If the universe did make her, she is half finished, perhaps a project abandoned half way through or forgotten about. She prefers thinking of it that way, as opposed to the universe being too disgusted or angry with how she turned out to finish her.

She knows she is unfinished because she has no name.

Life must have brought her into existence though- and this she thinks was an accident. Perhaps a leak of power in the wrong area, a flight of fancy on some inanimate statue that she had been before. She knows it was not on purpose because Life was not there when she woke.

No one was there when she woke. When she pulled herself into awareness, a muddle of limbs and shapes and knowledge that she did not so much learn as know.

She knows of the gods, knows of the universe, knows Life should have been there for her beginning, knows that Death should be there for her end, but she doubts. She knows there are many gods, knows they may find each other, but she has never seen one. Her kin are not vastly social creatures, they stick to small packs like wolves but more tightly knit. She is not surprised they don’t actively seek her out, but in her wanderings, she is surprised none idly come to investigate.

There are no words for what she was when she first woke up. Too many eyes and limbs and veins holding it all together, she didn’t like that form so she changed it.

She started with grass, with dirt, started as the first things she saw, but grass was pulled by the wind and dirt was drowned under rain and she wished to move. She was a thing not meant to exist, so she existed in others’ forms.

A ladybug, first, because one crawled over her-as-grass and it could fly above the ground that bound the ants and caterpillars. Birds next, big and small, and then butterflies who were beautiful but boring. Flying was nice, but she didn’t love it, so she moved on.

Wolves and chickens and dolphins and cows and tropical fish and pigs and llamas and horses and humans. She tried them all. All had their charms, all had their downsides, she flipped between them like pages of a well-loved book. Like one found in a library that had been passed between a hundred hands and waited for a hundred more, but she was all those hands just in different forms. 

Humans were nice, because she could walk into cities and temples and talk to the priests and the artisans and she could learn. One artist pressed a pencil into her unused hand and she taught herself to draw. She liked drawing, and maybe that’s a bit why she liked being a human.

But humans could get tiring, could get so caught up in themselves, so busy, and if her long collection of forms really were a book the most well worn-well loved- page would be cats.

She loved cats, loved the way they stretched and flowed and how she could jump from any height and to any height. How she could laze in any sunbeam and be left alone.

She is a cat when Justice found her. It had been too many human years, countless shifts between forms, since she had started her existence, she did not think any god would come to her, but there Justice is.

Her form is of a black cat with little white socks and a small patch right above her nose. He crouches down before her, long, red cloak splaying out behind him and dark hair matching her fur.

“Hello, would you spare a minute for my company?”

She yawns, showing off long, white teeth and twists herself into a jewelled hummingbird to reach level with his face.

“Sure, why have you come?” She zips slightly to the right in her curiosity.

“To greet you.”

“Hello, then.”

“Hello,” he says with a gentle smile.

“Why now?”

He sighs, a low, drawn out thing, and suddenly he seems old. Not in his face, or in his eyes which show nothing at all, but in his very presence, like weariness and age had found him again after a long game of chase.

“Because I could come no sooner.”

Other gods come. Not Life, not Death, but others, they pass by like they did not before, give nods and share stories and gifts, but they come and they go in infrequent bursts. Luck enjoys flitting by, dropping fortune and happenstance as he goes but he does not linger. Justice is an almost-constant.

Gods do not stay. They are not stagnant creatures, especially not human ones, which are called and pulled and drawn to their worshippers and domains. Justice is a human god, so he goes where he is bid, but when those ties do not inexorably tug at him, he finds her.

It is nice, comfortable, even. He does not press, he sits and he listens and he will look at her art or compliment whatever form she takes up. She starts pressing her lines harder into the paper, makes ridges and gouges that he can run his fingers over.

She shows him all the small, overlooked places, where children and animals hide and watch and play. She takes him through familiar and unfamiliar markets and they trade favourite foods. He shows her his many courthouses, made out of quartz and clay and wood and obsidian. They are large and they are small and everything in between. Sometimes they venture through at night, pacing empty halls in peace, sometimes they linger on the edges of the daily crush of people and business.

Sometimes they talk, sometimes they do not. Often, they merely enjoy each other’s company.

“How do you always find me?” She asks one time, curling up in a stray sunbeam that glints off her orange fur.

Justice relaxes back, it’s a peaceful day, a beautiful day, a day for happiness, but he frowns. “Because the universe demanded you be let to find your own way, held even Life away from you so you grew and learned in solitude, and it was necessary, but it was not right.”

“What would be my recompense, then?” She stares up at him with big, luminous eyes; daring eyes. “Would you fight the universe if I asked that as my payment?”

“Yes,” he says with a chuckle. “But that’s not what you demand.”

“I suppose not,” she says, and springs up, racing away into the trees. 

He does not follow for a long while.

She is nothing. She is nameless. She is a mistake, a chance, a thing that does not really belong. And yet- she can’t help but wonder.

This time, she seeks him out. She goes through courthouses, grand and small and hopes he is there because she cannot find him in the many cases that don’t reach his doors, that he must go out and find. Perhaps Luck had guided her to his friend-passed by in a breeze and whisper and gone before she could see- because he is not in one of his searchings.

Justice is in a small courthouse, barely two rooms, built from haphazard bricks and not called a courthouse really, but it is one all the same. He sits against the back wall, unseen by all as he sees all and nothing at the same time. When the proceedings are done, she unspools herself from her perch shifting from a lizard to a cat in a blurred moment, landing neatly on his shoulder.

“Hello,” he says.

“I am Nameless, am I not?” She asks instead of her usual greeting. It is an answer she knows, but her heart hopes otherwise.

“No,” he says, and the world stops in its eternal motion, “you are not Nameless.”

“Then what am I?” She challenges.

“You are Potential,” Justice says, the corner of his eyes crinkling, obscuring some of the milky white. “You can be anything you wish to become.”

The name sends ripples through her fur, it burrows between her pelt, through bone and blood to the thing that she was born as, the thing that stays with her through all her many changes, and the name sinks into the heart of it and stays. It is right. It is hers.

She does not settle, because that is against her nature. Her nature is one of constant change, of shedding the old and becoming anew and always moving. Not necessarily forwards, but moving all the same. She does not settle, but she is soothed.

Potential, she thinks, and that is a great power to have, a dangerous one, though few may think it, but she does not want to be dangerous. 

Potential pulls herself up and stretches herself out and stands beside Justice with hands and feet and a perfectly normal face with features that eluded all who looked upon it. “Would you like to build a farm with me?”

“I would like nothing more.”


	7. The Phoenix Fell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy's escaped exile and the clutches of Death, again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OHHO DID BREAD WRITE IN ACTUAL CANNON MOMENTS IN THE GODS AU??? YES HE DID!!!
> 
> Okay, for real, as more parts are added to this AU they will be sorted into chronological order, they are currently in order and chapters will be added to fit the liner timeline. Thank you for understanding. :)

Techno and Tommy sit across from each other, unmoving in the dark of Techno’s living room. Techno had woken in the middle of the night and came downstairs for a drink to find Tommy sprawled across the floor in front of the fireplace, making shapes and figures in the flame. He’d scrambled to his feet and backed away cautiously only to be told to relax, that he wasn't going to be hurt, and to sit on the couch, for it was much more comfortable than the hardwood floors.

They sit in silence, the quiet only interrupted by the crackling of fire. The stillness between them isn't awkward, it’s understanding, between an anti-social God of Blood and a broken and hurting God of Chaos.

Tommy hadn't been with Techno for long, only a few days, but it hadn’t taken Techno that long to see that Tommy was missing his wings. It was a strange and unsettling sight. Techno had always seen Tommy with his wings splayed out for the world proudly, a roaring fire chasing up his spine, crackling with his excitement or flaring with his easy to disturb temper.

Techno continues to stare at Tommy’s back, and he’s sure Tommy has noticed by now. “Why’d you get rid of the wings?” He asks softly.

Tommy glaces behind himself. “Oh yeah-” He rolls his shoulders, sparks fly off his shoulder blades and his wings unfurl from nothing, glowing softly as fire licks off feathers- “they're still there.”

Techno raises an eyebrow at the lack of intensity in the flame racing across Tommy’s back. “Why’s your fire died down?” He reaches a hand to run through the feathers, knowing the flame wouldn't scathe him.

Tommy visibly flinches back, moving away from him, wide, scared eyes finding Techno’s surprised expression. Techno’s hand falls as Tommy bites his lip and bows his head, Techno could feel the fear radiating off him. Ash flakes off them as the flame dies furter, barely noticeable as Tommy’s feathers puff up in fear.

Techno takes a closer look at his wings while Tommy hides his face, and subtly startles. They're dirty, very dirty, feathers are mangled and out of place, they're in the most poor condition Techno’s ever seen them in. Techno had known Tommy to have taken great care of them, having prided himself on the fact that the universe had trusted him with them. Now that they aren't being engulfed in flame, he can see the actual red, white, and gold coloring of them has dulled, showing in muted colors.

He swallows hard. “Theseus-”

“Don't call me that,” Tommy’s gravely voice cuts him off, looking at Techno with tearful eyes, “he fell and Theseus fucking died, I’m alive.” He takes a breath, pulling his legs up to his chest. “I survived the fall, he didn't.”

Techno’s expression softens at the grief shining in his eyes. “What did he do to you Chaos?” He asks softly.

Tommy’s breath hitches at his first name before breaking into sobs. Techno sets a gentle hand on Tommy’s arm then gradually pulls him into a hug, giving him time to pull away. Tommy sobs into his shoulder, chest heaving and wings shaking. 

The fire in his wings roars the more his heart aches, Techno can feel the heat on his face, it’s the last thing he’s worried about. Techno cann feel Tommy’s ribs pressing against his arms, can see marred skin through the bandages wrapped around Tommy’s arms, can feel him shivering despite the fire licking up his hack.

Tommy takes a sudden, shuddering breath, and speaks with a hoarse voice. “Thousands of years Techno,” Tommy says, taking another breath, “thousands of years I’ve spent with the ability to escape Death, thousands of years Dream and I have spent playing with my life for  _ fun _ .” He sits back, looking Techno in the eyes. “Techno,” he squeezes his eyes shut as his voice breaks, “I’ve never wanted to be able to die more.”

Techno takes a sharp breath as silent tears spill down Tommy’s face. He sighs and sets a gentle hand to Tommy’s cheek, tilting Tommy’s head towards him, Tommy opens his eyes.

“The universe made you her phoenix on purpose.” He starts, eyes locked with Tommy, gaze unwavering. “Phil didn't spend all that time bending the laws of inevitability for your creation to have you waste your life on Death himself.”

Techno brings his other hand to Tommy’s face and starts to gently run his fingers over the cuts and scars marring his skin, pulling his hands away from now smooth and undamaged skin. “Of all the souls Tubbo and I have given him, yours was never meant to be one of them.” He says, searching Tommy’s expression when he flinches at the mention of his best friend.

“Chaos, you have always been unyielding, ever present and persistent, you've woven your own fate since the day you rose from the ashes of the past.” Tommy’s tears have stopped, only shining tracks on his face as he listens, breath calming quickly as he looks away.

“Wilbur was always an Icarus,” Techno says wryly, “he’d never heed a warning until his heart was content, you never deserved what Wilbur had done to you while he was alive and you don't deserve whatever Dream had done to you either.”

Tommy looks back to Techno, finding determination in his expression. “He’ll pay for what he’s done to you, Chaos.” Techno assures Tommy, a tiny smile pulling at his lips. “He’ll feel the wrath of the Blood God, I promise.”


	8. As If You Could Kill The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy ascends as the true God of Chaos.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All credit for this chapters premise goes to Sorrows. She proposed this idea, I wrote it, but she is to blame for any tears that are shed.

Tommy takes a shuddering gasp, face pressed into the prison's obsidian floor, curling into himself as his ribs crack with the force of Dream’s kick.

Dream laughs above him, eyes pitch, shadowed wings ghosting behind Dream's back. "You're going to go back, Tommy." Dream says lowly, voice tinged with a twisted excitement.

Tears slide down Tommy's face as his wings shiver, missing all of his secondaries and a few primaries. The fire in his wings has died, not even an ember sparks through his bloodied feathers.

"I killed the universe's phoenix, I killed you once and I'll kill you again," Dream starts, madness in his eyes, "your ashes were swept into the void along with your power, you'll be born here and you'll die here Theseus!" Dream shouts, smiling wide.

Tommy's breath hitches at his name, and he exhales fully. He shudders with the absence of flame on his back, feeling deathly cold. The tears of crying obsidian drip onto his back, burning as they slide over bruises and cuts. His wings press against his body, regardless of the pain that sears over his skin, the feeling of missing feathers squeezing his chest. The lava just behind him, spitting at his back, furthers that ache as his feathers are singed.

He forces himself to take a breath and push himself to his elbows, looking up at Dream, agony and resentment in his expression. "Theseus fucking died." Tommy says, voice cracking, as another few tears slide down his face.

"Oh, I know he died." Dream says, nodding along. "Phil was there and took his soul, Phil made sure he arrived in the underworld, he made sure Theseus was safe." Dream looks down, a smirk tapering his lips. "Looks like he forgot to keep our Theseus safe."

Tommy manages to slide onto his knees, biting back a cry of pain when it sparks over his skin like lightening. "Theseus threw away his shot," Tommy says, squeezing his eyes shut. "I came back, that bastard didn't have the balls to try again."

Dream cocks his head to the side, his confusion hidden behind his mask. "I brought you back Tommy," Dream says, keeping his tone neutral, "you didn't have a choice in the matter, and you'll be going back again."

Tommy gives a breathy laugh, and Dream straightens in surprise. "I'm a phoenix, Death." Tommy says, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I choose whether I come back or not, but no matter how many times I'm killed, I always come back." He looks up at Dream, and his smile widens.

The heat of lava calls to him from behind, beckons like a siren's call, the voice sounds like Wilbur's, singing danger's most sinful desires. Tommy takes a deep breath, and when he exhales flame spills off his lips. A sudden jolt of fear rips through Dream. Tommy pushes himself backwards with a grin, body screaming in protest, and is swallowed by the lava behind him.

Dream doesn't move, staying frozen, staring at the lava curtain. Fear nags at him, unexplained, involuntary. The room stays still, silent, only interrupted by the muted sound of lava bubbles popping. Dream tentatively rubs at his chest, confused as to why he couldn't feel Tommy's soul, why the sudden feeling of a gods soul being ripped apart and put back together didn't come crashing down on him.

Dream yelps as the ground beneath him shudders, sending him crashing to the floor. He yanks his hands awake from the obsidian with a scream as his skin is burned to blistering. His breath catches in his throat as the obsidian floor of his prison cell cracks. Dream casts his gaze to his only way out, the torrent lava curtain threatening to burn him alive as the earth continues to shake. 

A hand thrusts through the lava, further startling Dream as he scrambles back, a body follows. Tommy falls to the obsidian, lava pouring from his lips as his entire body heaves, forcing himself to breathe. Dream can't do anything but stare. His wings are flared, touching wall to wall, curling back into the curtain as they rise and fall. A roaring flame races across each feather, shining in royal red, blazing orange, and shimmering gold. Fire licks up the back of Tommy's neck, sending blond hair aflame.

Tommy's head snaps up, blazing white eyes meeting Dream's fearful expression. Tommy looks down at his hands, which are charred black, flowing lava rushing through cracks and veins. He looks back to Dream, staring him down as he crushes the obsidian under his palms. 

Dream flails as the floor crumbles and lava starts seeping through the cracks. Tommy watches him panic, and smiles.

"Hey Dream-" Tommy says, watching Dream whirl around to face him- "say hi to Wilbur for me."

A deafening explosion rocks the prison's foundation, and the main cell fractures with the sound, drowning in a sea of lava.

The God of Will sprints through the prison's halls, fear spiking through him as the prison starts to collapse, sinking into the ocean. He slams down a button then dives through the Nether portal, falling onto hot blackstone. Sam scrambles to his feet and through the prison's entrance, forcing distance between himself and the falling building. He spins on his heel, heart dropping at the sight of the prison. It's still falling, wall after wall sinking into the ocean, smoke rising in thick stacks from the center, but what has frozen Sam, is the person above it all.

Tommy looks down at the decimated building, a soft grin on his lips. Lava streams from every wound on Tommy's body, he doesn't feel the pain, relishing in the heat that finally courses through his body. His wings cut through the air, strong beats making heat waves as he keeps himself above the carnage.

He takes a deep breath, head falling back as a drunken smile graces his lips. "Suck it green boy." He mutters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Authors love you. <3

**Author's Note:**

> Bruh I fuck with this I might make another-


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